Aria leaned heavily against a tree, exhausted beyond words.
"White-Core beasts…" she muttered. "Three of them… gods…"
She looked around. "…Where's Sirius?"
Mira's eyes scanned the area.bShe felt it then. Or rather, she didn't. There was nothing.
No presence or pressure. No impossible mana reservoir looming just beyond reach.
"…He's gone," Mira said softly.
From the shadows beyond the village, Sirius watched as healers rushed forward, as survivors were pulled up, as the dead beasts dissolved into inert mana residue.
No one looked toward him.
No one could even sense him and that was how he wanted it.
"They stood," he murmured. "They fought. They endured."
This village was no longer fragile.
It had teeth now.
And somewhere, far away, someone had lost three valuable tools as well as three pair of eyes.
Sirius turned his gaze toward the direction the mana had recoiled.
His voice was calm.
But cold.
"You've seen enough."
The hunt had quietly begun. The battlefield slowly transformed into something else.
What had been a place of death and desperation became a place of recovery then, gradually, something closer to resolve.
Sirius stood at the edge of the village, unseen beneath his sealing robe, watching as the villagers worked. The wounded were carried away. The shaken were comforted. Those who could still stand helped where they could.
They were tired.
But they were alive.
And more importantly, they had fought back.
Sirius's gaze lingered on Duran.
The man sat on a low stone, shirt torn, torso wrapped in crude bandages stained dark with blood. His sword lay across his knees. He wasn't shaking anymore. His eyes were steady and focused, not on fear, but on memory.
"He didn't hesitate," Sirius murmured quietly. "Even when he knew he could die."
That mattered.
He turned slightly as Mira approached, brushing dirt from her clothes. She looked exhausted, but her posture was firm.
"…You saw it all, didn't you?" she asked.
"Yes."
Mira exhaled slowly. "They held. Barely—but they held."
"They did more than that," Sirius replied. "They adapted."
Mira glanced toward the villagers again. "They won because you didn't step in."
Sirius said nothing.
After a moment, he spoke.
"Mira."
She looked at him.
"Can you train them?"
Her brow furrowed. "Train… who?"
"The ones who can fight," Sirius said. "Duran. Lulie. The others who stood their ground."
Mira followed his gaze.
"…You're serious."
"Yes."
She hesitated. "You don't need me anymore?"
"For now," Sirius replied honestly. "You have taught me what I required. Control, restraint, and most importantly, awareness."
Mira scoffed weakly. "You say that like you're done learning."
"I am not," Sirius said. "But Aria remains."
As if summoned by her name, Aria emerged from a nearby house, her expression dark and tired.
"I heard that," she said flatly. "And I object."
Sirius turned to her. "Why?"
"Because you enjoying spellcraft does not mean I enjoy teaching a walking catastrophe," she snapped.
Mira smirked. "You love it."
Aria glared. "I do not."
"…You named his compression spell," Mira pointed out.
Aria paused.
"…That's not relevant."
Sirius inclined his head. "Then it is settled."
Mira crossed her arms, thinking.
"…If I train them," she said slowly, "it won't be fast. And it won't be pretty."
"That is acceptable."
"They'll get hurt."
"They already have."
Mira sighed. "…Alright. I'll do it."
Sirius nodded. "Thank you."
A group of villagers gathered around the fallen beasts.
Sirius watched as Duran, Lulie, and two others cut carefully into the beasts' chests, prying through hardened flesh and brittle mana residue until...
"There!" someone shouted.
A glowing white crystal was pulled free.
Then another.
And another.
Three White Cores.
Raw mana condensed into physical form—pulsing faintly even after the beasts' deaths.
Aria whistled softly. "Three of them… that's a fortune."
"Or a weapon," Mira added.
Sirius shook his head. "Neither."
They turned to him.
"They will not be used for power," Sirius said. "Not yet."
He stepped forward—his presence concealed, but his voice carried authority.
"Tonight," he continued, "the beasts will feed the village."
Murmurs spread instantly.
"A feast…?"
"After all this…?"
"Is that safe?"
"The meat is usable," Sirius said. "The mana has dissipated."
He paused.
"And the feast will serve a purpose."
Mira understood first.
"…Distraction," she said quietly.
"Yes."
Aria's eyes narrowed. "And morale."
"And silence," Sirius finished.
The villagers needed celebration and not questions.
They needed unity instead of suspicion.
And they did not need to realize that someone had deliberately tested their defenses.
Not yet.
"Tonight," Sirius declared, "Ainz eats together."
Cheers rose.
Some were tired and some were weak but they cheered anyway.
As preparations began, Sirius turned his attention inward.
He still felt it.
The fading echo of the mana recoil.
The direction, the distance. He could reach it.
Given time.
But time was exactly what the controller would use to disappear.
"They expected pursuit," Sirius murmured. "Or fear."
They would get neither.
If another attack came, he would not wait.
But this one? This one would pass.
Let them think Ainz was weaker than it truly was.
Let them return.
And then, Sirius's thoughts did not finish the sentence.
Deep within the forest, miles away from Ainz, a structure sat hidden beneath illusion and concealment arrays. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than twisted roots and stone.
Inside, four figures sat around a circular table carved from black wood.
One of them growled.
"Three pets," the bestial man snarled, claws tapping against the surface. His face was partially lupine, eyes glowing faintly white. "Wasted."
He leaned forward. "And for what? Nothing. No hidden powerhouse. No abnormal mana source. They barely managed to win!"
Another man snorted. "You lost control. That's what happened."
"I did not," the beast-man snapped. "The connection was severed. Cleanly."
The third figure—a thin woman with pale skin and dark markings along her arms—tilted her head. "Severed by what?"
"…A mortal," the beast-man said reluctantly. "A swordsman."
Silence followed.
Then, the fourth figure spoke.
He sat at the head of the table, posture relaxed, fingers interlaced. His presence was oppressive—not because of raw power, but because of certainty.
"A swordsman," he repeated. "Cut a mana link you established."
"Yes."
The leader sighed, clearly irritated. "Our master will not like this."
"He's not here," the beast-man muttered.
"He will be," the leader replied coldly. "And he asked for results."
The woman crossed her legs. "What about the village itself?"
"Nothing special," the beast-man said. "Weak. Poor. Barely trained."
The leader's eyes narrowed. "Then why did you fail?"
No one answered.
Finally, the beast-man spoke again, quieter this time.
"…I think there was something watching."